


Wish that you were here

by Darkoverstar



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Denied Feelings, F/M, Flashbacks, Grieve, Introspection, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov-centric, Nightmares, kind of song fic, she misses Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 15:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20876624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkoverstar/pseuds/Darkoverstar
Summary: Set between Infinity War and Endgame, it basically talks about how Natasha feels in the aftermath, and her thoughts towards Clint.Inspired by the Florence song "wish that you were here".





	Wish that you were here

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
This is the first fic i publish, and it was possible thanks to my fantastic beta, MyOneAndOnly; thank you for supporting me and believing that this fic was worth publishing. Love you dear.  
By the way, I hope you will enjoy it, and please let me know what you think, it's very important to me.
> 
> Desclaimer:  
Clint and Nat don't belong to me (otherwise they would be canon), but the story is mine.

_I tried to leave it all behind me_  
_ But I woke up and there they were beside me_

It seems to have been entire ages since those days.  
But the memories are still tremendously alive, on the dark nights populated by spectral nightmares they burn more than a fire.  
A fire that creates more shadows than lights.  
The nights in which the scars begin to hurt, indelible warnings marked on her skin.  
Natasha is a strong, hardened woman.  
But, sometimes, she also gives in under the weight of awareness, of the past.  
She tried to leave everything behind her, yet she woke up and found them right behind her.  
Always them, the memories.  
Exactly like many years before, with the difference that now she is alone dealing with everything.  
Suffering does not fall into prescription, by now she has understood it, as she has understood the cyclical nature of events in life.  
The Red Room, the training, the sense of betrayal, the desire to forget everything, the seemingly impossible hope of escape.  
Her attempts to start again were not proving to be fruitful.  
The certainty of being hunted on several fronts, of not having the chance to escape.  
And then, _he_.

~♦~

_"Kill me, what are you waiting for? Aren't you here for it? "_  
_ The Black Widow looked straight into the eyes of the SHIELD's marksman, with dignity, without fear. Death would have been a way like any other to end the horrors. She wouldn't have complained, she wouldn't have cried or pleaded._  
_ She was a steel woman, cold, ruthless, bloodthirsty._  
_ She did not fear death. She would have accepted it with the typical pride of her being._  
_ The crystalline eyes of that man, mysterious and inscrutable even to her, stared at her for a few seconds._  
_ Then, to the woman's immense amazement, he lowered the bow that was pointing at her._  
_ «Yes, it's my job. But I will not carry it out the way they intend to »_  
_ A strange sensation ran through the limbs of the Russian. Was it relief? Undoubtedly surprise._  
_ «Why?»_  
_ She could not avoid asking._  
_ The man's lips bent in the ghost of a smile._

~♦~

  
But now he is not there, and new tons of anguish weigh on her heart.  
This time it is not because of the KGB but of a crazy violet titan.  
In these long years she has tried to go on, but she simply can't do it.  
Apparently, leaving everything behind is not a viable option for her, neither now nor ever.

_ And I don't believe it but I guess it's true_  
_ Some feelings, they can travel too _

Many things have changed with the flow of time, she has, in the first place.  
As much as she does not like to show it, she is a person full of sentiment, capable of experiencing emotions in a powerful way.  
Even too powerful.  
With the arrival of Thanos she felt stronger than ever the affection and concern for her friends, the responsibility towards all humanity, and now that she is derelict, she feels pain and regret with the same intensity.  
She had never believed in the strength and meaning of things like friendship, brotherhood, love.  
_"Love is for children"_  
She remembers. Remembers to have told this to Loki, a lifetime ago.  
This makes her think.  
She doesn't even know exactly when the real change started; when the ice she was made of, as cold as that of her Mother Russia, had begun to melt and Natasha, the rational but passionate woman, re-emerged.  
Thinking about it, she does not know the precise moment in which she began to return to life, but she knows thanks to _whom_.__  
__

~♦~

  
_ «Barton, I expect an excellent motivation for your gesture»_  
_ Natasha was standing at a safe distance from the two men, but her acute senses and capability to read lips allowed her to steal their words anyway._  
_ The agent who was talking, and she understood his name was Coulson, barely concealed the agitation._  
_ «Don't worry, Phil. You'll see, I'm right»_  
_ The archer who had spared her and brought her there, Clint Barton, kept his serious and calm expression unchanged._  
_ «I hope it for you, or Fury will let you have a bad quarter of an hour»_  
_ Natasha was wearing her best poker face, which actually served to mask her internal confusion._  
_ She still didn't understand why he did it. And why she agreed to go with him._  
_ Perhaps because of the light in his eyes?_  
_ For the chance to start over?_  
_ She didn't know or didn't want to give herself an answer, not yet, at least._

_ Natasha dodged Clint's fist, grabbed his arm and twisted it._  
_ But with a feline move he slipped one leg between hers, causing her to lose her balance; falling she dragged him with her and the two tumbled onto the exercise mat._  
_ Then Clint blocked Natasha's hands_  
_ «It would seem the cat was put in the bag»_  
_ He blew her with a half smile, which the redhead returned._  
_ A moment later she gave him a push with her legs, shoving him away. Taking advantage of the momentary bewilderment of the man she reversed their positions, plunging on him and blocking him, a knee pressed on his chest. She brought her face close to his._  
_ «Who's in the bag now, Robin Hood?»_  
_ She murmured as a flash of satisfaction and triumph crossed the emeralds of her eyes._  
_ Clint smiled, admitting the surrender_  
_ «Ok, you won»_  
_ Natasha stood up and offered him a hand. He grabbed it and got to his feet._  
_ «You're not bad at all»_  
_ Clint congratulated her while she wiped her sweat. Then he grabbed a bottle of water and took a long drink._  
_ Nat followed him, took his bottle and drank in turn._  
_ He raised a corner of his mouth._  
_ The truth is that she was immediately at ease with him, in a rather strange way._  
_ She didn't tie up with people, she kept everyone at a distance._  
_ But Clint was like her in so many ways._  
_ He had shaded areas and hidden sides that he didn't show, and that tickled her curiosity._  
_ He was poised, calm, but with an unexpected humorous side, although it wasn't always exactly the best._  
_ He treated her kindly, not pushing her to open up. And perhaps it was just that respect that instead had on her the opposite effect, to induce her to reveal herself._  
_ And then they were perfectly in unison when it came to fighting, two strings that vibrated at the same frequency and released a lethal harmony._  
_ But every bond was a risk._  
_ There was always in Nat, whether she admitted it or not, the latent fear of clinging to a person and suffering in seeing it taken away; this had made her refractory to feelings and long-term relationships._  
_ No involvement, no possible emotional trauma._  
_ Yet she felt a feeling of confidence flourish in her chest and...friendship for that blond archer._  
_ Things were changing... the problem was that Nat wasn't sure she wanted them to change._  
_ In returning the water she found himself studying Clint's eyes closely._  
_ They were blue, with just the hint of a jade green tinge. Clear, pure, but also mysterious and enigmatic._  
_ "You're an ice woman. Cold, distant. It's just that you feel indebted to him"_  
_ She reminded herself. But only for an infinitesimal fraction of a second a very hidden part of her mind thought she could sink peacefully into those clear waters._  
_ «I know»  
_

~♦~

  
Looking at herself now she sees herself changed, very much, from that woman fearful of trusting, although her feelings remain a landslide beneath her feet.  
She is not good with words, she is much better with facts.  
In any case, now as now she knows only that she is bent by pain.  
Bent but not broken, never broken.

_ Oh there it is again, sitting on my chest_  
_ Makes it hard to catch my breath_  
_ I scramble for the light of change _

_ "Here we go again"  
_It is the thought that runs through Natasha's mind.  
She is fallen again into the vicious spiral of mistrust, mistrust of everything and everyone, of herself in the first place.__  
_"The leopard never changes his spots"  
_She only knows that she feels an almost physical malaise when she lets her thoughts flow free, invariably reviving the battle scenes every night, seeing her friends dissolve and disappear.  
She's not entirely alone, that's true, but if possible Steve is even more broken than she is.  
They've known each other for a long time now, they've shared a lot and now they share this, but it's not enough, Natasha feels it inside her.  
Steve had already lost Peggy, and now he has lost Sam and especially Bucky.  
They feel the same pain, they see it reflected in each other’s eyes, but they can't communicate it.  
«Some people move on. But not us»  
Those were the words he had spoken to her a few days before, and in spite of herself she had agreed.  
She tried, but failed: simply these torments oppress her chest and make it difficult to breathe.  
But now...  
The time has come to make a change to their apathy, to the torpor caused by pain.  
From the black abyss where she fell she climbs to reach the light of change.

_ _  
_ _ _You're always on my mind_  
_ You're always on my mind_

__  
__Despite everything, however, there is one thing to goad Natasha's soul, a more personal, more "selfish" aspect.  
The lack of the person who she would most like to be close.  
A name, a face, a story.  
Clint.  
He is always in a corner of her mind, a constant: the truth is that she is afraid of having lost him forever, and that thought more than all does not give her peace.  
She needs him, his comfort.  
Clint who knows how to talk to her, which spots to touch.

_ And I never minded being on my own_  
_ Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home_  
_ To be where you are _

~♦~

_ _  
_Nothing like this had ever happened to her. She felt devastated._  
_ Seeing that girl act as she did once had destabilized her. She slipped at the foot of the bed, sitting with her head resting on her knees._  
_ Silently Clint sat down next to her._  
_ «She reminded me of an episode in my life. More than one in truth»_  
_ The need to confide her torments to someone began, suddenly and forcefully._  
_ The words came out tired and slow. Clint looked at her seriously_  
_ «Nat, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to»_  
_ He broke in before she could continue._  
_ A mixture of feelings stirred her stomach. Another time he was showing her how sensitive, humane and respectful he was, and this Nat couldn't ignore._  
_ «But I want to tell you»_  
_ She answered more confidently this time. He just nodded._  
_ Nat closed her eyes, trying to find the right words to start that long, tortuous and painful speech._  
_ She spared nothing, she spat out everything she had never said, and weighed on her heart like a boulder. She talked about the program in which she had been, the Red Room, about being the Black Widow._  
_ She was amazed at how memories she thought she had buried and forgotten were instead still very vivid in her memory._  
_ «Seeing that girl made all this come to the surface again ... I thought I had passed it, but maybe some things just don't leave us»_  
_ A tear escaped from the prison of Nat's eyelashes, and descended like a hot trail along her cheek before being intercepted by Clint's thumb._  
_ «Nat, I understand how you feel, I know how it feels to be abandoned, to be unable to count on anyone. You have gone through terrible things, but you are a strong woman, and you must be justly proud of what you have become »_  
_ Clint's hand had stopped at the side of Nat's cheek, and now he gently caressed her._  
_ «How ... do you know that feeling?»_  
_ She could not avoid asking. There were so many unknowns things about him._  
_ He started to speak, he talked about his childhood, his parents and his brother, the circus, how he got into SHIELD._  
_ «Clint, I'm sorry»_  
_ When he finished, Nat felt his pain as her own._  
_ The redhead leaned her face against his hand. The two of them were so similar, she had understood it, but she hadn't even imagined how far. Like fire and embers._  
_ Another tear slid down her cheek, but this time it was for him._  
_ «Oh Tasha...»_  
_ Clint whispered before pulling her to him._  
_ An arm encircled her waist, the other hand moved from her cheek to her neck; she could hear the rapid beats of their hearts synchronizing._  
_ She could feel his breath in her hair, his fingers intertwined with her locks with sweet caresses._  
_ The wave of unfamiliar feeling swept over her, and suddenly she threw her arms around Clint's neck. She needed to feel him as close as possible._  
_ He tightened her in such an overwhelming embrace that nothing more seemed to exist around them; Nat felt drawn into non-existence, unable to think._  
_ However, after a time that seemed too long and yet very short, she straightened and wiped from her eyes what remained of her tears._  
_ "So this is what it's like"_  
_ She thought without her even knowing what she was referring to._  
_ «Thanks Clint»_  
_ She managed to mutter at the end. If there was someone in that world from which she felt understood and not judged it was him._  
_ And she was immensely grateful for that, even if she would have never told him._  
_ «It's the least I can do Tasha. Thank you»_  
_ She had never cared about being alone, in fact, she had always found herself better operating on her own, without depending on someone or worse having to worry about someone._  
_ But now everything had changed, she had to come to terms with it and accept it._  
_ Something had broken inside her, after entering SHIELD but above all after meeting Clint._  
_ Clint, her first real friend, her partner._  
_ First she felt like she didn't belong to anything, she didn't have a place, a place to call home._  
_ Now she had a place to go back to after every mission: simply where he was.  
_

~♦~

  
Natasha revives all those memories, traces the evolution of their relationship.  
She has already experienced the anguish of the thought of having lost him, particularly when Loki had brainwashed him.  
She had told the God of deception that the only reason she wanted him alive was because she owed him a debt.  
Bullshit.  
It was years since debt had nothing to do with it.  
But she certainly wouldn't have said it to him ... and perhaps not even to herself.  
But in the end, she remarks within herself, she knows she is not good with feelings.

  
_But even closer to you, you seem so very far_

  
Hope returns to blossom in Natasha's inner rubble.

  
He is alive, now she's sure.

  
Just knowing this relieves her of an enormous weight.

  
She must find him.

  
It is with that thought that she searches feverishly for every clue about him, where he is, what he does. But every time she gets close he escapes, he seems only further away.  
Rhodey helps her, but it's not enough.  
She knows she shouldn't feel this need.  
A thought almost makes her laugh, so as not to despair: she was two years away from Bruce, theoretically her love interest, yet in all that time she never felt the pain and lack as she is feeling them now.  
She had already realized this. When they had seen each other again all she had experienced was relief and affection.  
She hadn't run to meet him, she hadn't had the urge to hug him or kiss him.  
But now she realizes how that relationship, although never really accomplished, was all a huge mistake.  
She thinks back to how she acted, almost like a damsel in distress, a role that just doesn't fit her.  
She didn't even know how to explain how she had gone from fear for Bruce to attraction.  
Perhaps she had thrown herself upon him because he seemed the opposite of her____  
"Or of Clint"  
____She thought it would be better. And for a while she really believed it.  
But now she realized that what she felt for him had never been love, not even in the way she meant it.  
It had been an escape, a new experience, different, but not satisfying in spirit.  
Because Bruce wasn't what she needed.  
Banner had represented the search for oblivion, the flight, perhaps in a certain sense he was appalling her.  
A woman, that woman.  
Laura.  
A name, a thousand implications.  
It would be hypocritical to say that she hadn't been upset when she discovered Clint's relationship.  
She didn't know, she didn't admit what she felt for the archer, yet a punch in the stomach had hit her at the news.  
She felt betrayed, knowing she was wrong, that she had no right on him.  
No, it was not a dashed hope, because he had never made her understand anything, and because in reality it was just their friendship.  
These were lies that she said to herself to gild the pill.  
The children, they were the coup de grace.  
Those little kids who had learned to love her, called her aunt, and reminded her of what she could never have.  
She had not managed to hate them despite everything; indeed, she had quelled her mind once and for all, put aside those strange feelings, labeled under the aegis of camaraderie and friendship, and had promised herself not to think about it anymore.  
All bullshit, again, always.

____  
____ _And now I'm reaching out with every note I sing_  
_ And I hope it gets to you on some pacific wind_  
_ Wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear_  
_ Tells you that I miss you and I wish you were here_

____  
S____he misses him. Damn if she misses him.  
She feels the physical need to get him back close, to fight and to stand by his side.  
Natasha opens the window and whispers words in the wind; she hopes that they will travel on the light breezes and reach him, that they will wrap themselves around him and bring her murmur back to his ear: I miss you and I wish you were here.  
And she hopes Clint feels it, the desire to have him there with her.  
And what about her? What is it that she feels? What has she always felt but also denied?

~♦~

  
_ "Is this love, agent Romanoff?"_

~♦~

  
_ And if I stay, oh, I don't know_  
_ There'll be so much that I'll have to let go_

~♦~

  
_«Barton»_  
_ Natasha whispered, waiting to hear his voice in the earpiece._  
_ She was outside the hall where the festivities were taking place, wrapped in a beautiful red dress._  
_ «Romanoff»_  
_ However, the answer did not reach her in the earpiece, but behind her back._  
_ She turned and saw Clint moving towards her: he was wearing a tuxedo, which fit him particularly well._  
_ She didn't think he would reach her, they must have changed plans last minute. He followed her, so much so that Nat could distinctly smell the perfume of his aftershave._  
_ She found herself unable to sustain his gaze, which therefore fell on the bow tie, not perfectly bound._  
_ The redhead snorted a little before starting to untie it._  
_ «You are a human disaster Barton»_  
_ She murmured as she finished tying it up again. In reality inside her she thought quite the opposite, to be precise._  
_ Clint took her hand before she lowered it again. The unexpected contact with his warm fingers almost made her wince._  
_ «We suspect they have infiltrated inside, we must go in and check»_  
_ With a smirk he brought Nat's hand to his face and brushed her knuckles with his lips._  
_ «So ... can I have the honor of a dance mademoiselle?»_  
_ With dismay, Natasha realized the shivers that had crossed her when he touched her with his lips._  
_ What happened? They had had much closer contact, but she had never experienced a similar... haunt._  
_ She managed to nod as if nothing had happened and they headed inside, onto the dance floor._  
_ Clint took her in his arms, and for a few seconds the Russian forgot why she was there, but was quick to recover her lucidity._  
_ They moved with incredible harmony in the middle of the dance floor._  
_ Clint made Nat perform a pirouette, which in the movement sighted the people they were looking for._  
_ «The stooges are here, as supposed»_  
_ She whispered in his ear as the dance brought them back together_  
_ «Excellent, soon we will proceed»_  
_ Nat was trying to keep all her attention on the lens, after all she was a professional spy._  
_ Only for a moment, however, she allowed himself to search for Clint's eyes._  
_ And she wished she hadn't done it._  
_ «Anyway, I don't know if I've already told you you're wonderful tonight»_  
_ He told her quietly, looking straight into her eyes. Blue and green, water and earth merged together._  
_ Natasha smiled, a genuine smile._  
_ "You too, Clint, you too"_  
_ she would have liked to answer, but decided to opt for a more peaceful one:_  
_ «I always am»_  
_ An eyebrow of the blond rose together with a corner of his mouth._

~♦~

_ You're disappearing all the time_  
_ But I still see you in the light_  
_ For you the shadows fight _

Clint is elusive. He moves in the darkness, silent, and Nat fails to foresee his moves, much less understand his scheme of action.  
In truth she has not even seen him in person, mostly his traces... traces that punctually lead her to blind alleys.  
He simply disappears.  
And leaves behind a trail of bodies.  
_"What are you doing, Clint? What happened to you?"_  
She cannot avoid wondering.  
True, she hasn't found him yet, but she can see him in the light.  
After the bitter nocturnal vigils, tinged with memories, which like ferocious beasts are just waiting to attack and tear her to pieces, there is the balm of oblivion, the one that makes her forget the grip of the clutches of pain, which thightens its claws on her heart until it bleeds .  
In the fuzzy fog between dream and wakefulness, where the mind is lost and the sufference is muffled, she sees him.  
When she wakes up he is nothing but a bittersweet mirage, but this is the one that gives her the strength to continue to look for him, strenuously, tirelessly.  
But in the midst of all this there is something different, something obscure; she feels it, she does not know if it is her sixth sense of a spy, of a woman or... no, this is not the time.  
In any case, the feeling is inside her, she perceives it in her skin and her belly: the shadows are fighting for him, to have him.  
But Natasha wants him more.  
She is ready to kick the ass of any shadow that wants to catch him.

_ And it's beautiful but there's that tug in the sight_  
_ I must stop time traveling, you're always on my mind _

The plan could work. It must work.  
She knows, Steve knows, everyone that counts knows.  
It's a nice idea, finally Natasha feels she can do something, feels the turning point nearby.  
It's a faint hope, but it's still something, isn't it?  
Yet there is this tear in the overview, a piece missing in the end of the game.  
It's up to her to find him, and frankly Natasha can’t wait for anything else.  
The time of the journey, of her internal travels must end but rather they must start time travel. Literally.  
But first she will find Clint; he's always on her mind.  
And in the end he’s the only one that counts.

_ We all need something watching over us_  
_ Be it the falcons, the clouds or the cross_  
_ And then the sea swept in and left us all speechless_  
_ Speechless _

Natasha has never felt the need to be protected.  
She is a badass, able to look after herself in an excellent way.  
Yet every now and then she would like to have some kind of protection from above, a good star or something similar.  
And now more than ever there would be need, not only for her, but for all of them.  
The idea of clinging to something, believing in something was nice, but she couldn't afford it.  
Not after the wave of death they had faced and that had left them powerless and speechless.  
They had been a mere, fragile dam that had tried to stem the devastating power of that river, that sea.  
They had collapsed, dragged away by the rushing current.  
Natasha presses the trigger again and hits the target.  
Shooting at the shooting range makes her feel good, focusing on a physical act makes her empty her mind.  
She trains until her arms hurt and she is really too tired to move forward.  
Still little and everything will change.  
Still little and soon she would be reunited with him.

_ And I never minded being on my own_  
_ Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home_  
_ To be where you are_  
_ But even closer to you, you seem so very far_  
_ And now I'm reaching out with every note I sing_  
_ And I hope it gets to you on some pacific wind_  
_ Wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear_  
_ Tells you that I miss you and I wish you were here _

There he is, in front of her, finally.  
He has his back to her, but she knows it's him.  
The bodies lie at his feet, and he cleans the bloody blade of his katana on his arm.  
He is dressed entirely in black, but those are his shoulders, his legs, she would recognize them everywhere.  
Emotion dominates her, fills her, takes her to the limit.  
Rain beats on her umbrella, streams on Clint, for a moment it seems to wash away all sins.  
Its white noise covers the sounds of the city, dims the lights and colors of Tokyo.  
Blood flows from the bodies of the Yakuza members, but the rain immediately carries it away, washes the world.  
With a measured gesture the man lowers his hood, still giving her back.  
Time expands, expands, the immensity of everything is crystallized in an instant.  
Her heart beats furiously.  
She waited so long for this moment.  
And then he does. He takes off the mask and slowly turns to her.  
He is him.  
But his gaze is a door wide open on the abyss, bubbling pain, anger, frustration, hatred.  
He's broken, she understands right away.  
Clint takes one step forward, looking for her gaze, and finding it; his blue eyes just soften, a spark of light illuminates the darkness within them.  
The rain trickles down his beloved face, wets his hair, drips from his chin, but he doesn't care.  
Natasha opens her lips, all the emotions she feels condense into a tear, which goes down her cheek.  
How much she missed him.  
Now he's here, he doesn't seem to be himself anymore, but she feels inside her that he is still him at the bottom.  
His Clint, a part of her.  
Thanos took away a lot, almost everything, but he couldn't take them away.  
Their eyes are chained for very long moments, reading, speaking and expressing what words, in their narrowness, cannot say, the green of the earth meets and blends with the blue of the stormy sea, a bond so strong that transcends the smallness of the things that surround them, space and time.  
Natasha, guided by an archaic and powerful force, stronger than her and anything else, holds out her hand to Clint's gloved hand.  
A second later, he responds to her grasp, and the world regains color.  
When finally, after moments that seem to be eras, Nat finds the voice, in a single word she encloses the eternity of her feelings.  
«Clint»  
«Tasha»

__  
_Wish that you were … _

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to say hello on my tumblr: [darkoverstar](http://darkoverstar.tumblr.com/)


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